Night
by Mercurial Phoenix
Summary: It is the worst fight they've ever had. Sometimes there can be no turning back.
1. Tyrant Spell

_The night is darkening 'round me;_

_The wild wilds coldly blow,_

_But a tyrant spell has bound me,_

_And I cannot, cannot go._

-from "The Night is Darkening 'round Me"

Emily Brönte

Silence screamed through the distance between them. Both of them sat staring into their teacups, the drinks having gone stone cold as they contemplated their own chaotic thoughts, neither interested in even the pretense of civility. Tension was a tangible presence in the air, hot and cold at the same time, thick as syrup, bitter, volatile.

Shizuka hadn't moved in over twenty minutes, while Kimihiro had fidgeted and twitched and shifted. The silence began to scream in agony, and the tension sizzled as if someone had set it aflame.

And then suddenly the dam burst.

"_It was completely unnecessary,"_ snapped Kimihiro, rising from his chair so quickly it toppled over backward, though he paid it no notice. He slapped his hands on the table for emphasis and used the stinging of his palms as added fuel for his temper, leaning forward to direct the entirety of his anger unto Shizuka's impassive form.

Shizuka merely looked at him with so much boredom apparent in his features that Kimihiro felt his temper spark a little more.

"What," he said listlessly, "your stupidity tonight?"

"You goddamned idiot," Kimihiro hissed. "You utter moron."

"Funny. Here I was thinking the _exact same things _about you." Shizuka rose as well, calmly, without seeming to hurry, without seeming to _care._

Kimihiro hands clenched into fists, and he _knew_ he was going to have nail marks in his palms. "You could have been _killed,_ you ass!"

"Again, I was thinking the same thing about _you."_

Damn him, _damn _him for looking so fucking at peace with the whole fucking world. This was goddamned _serious, _and Kimihiro wasn't going to let Shizuka pretend otherwise. Like hell would the archer get away with that deadpan expression this time.

"_You pushed me out of the way."_

Shizuka lifted an eyebrow. "I did you a favor," he corrected. "Saved your life. _Again." _

"I was _fine!"_

Shizuka let out an exasperated sigh. "That spirit was going to stab you with claws that looked like rusty daggers. At best, you'd have just gotten tetanus."

"Rust doesn't _cause_ tetanus, idiot," Kimihiro retorted.

Shizuka smirked. "I'm impressed. Someone's been paying attention in health class."

"Fuck you," shot back Kimihiro. "At least I know better than to _throw myself in the path of homicidal spirits with fucking five-inch-long claws."_

The archer snorted. "You? You practically _invited _him to take a shot at you," he sneered.

"_What?"_

"You stood there," Shizuka said, and this time there was a hint, just barely a flicker, of fury in his voice. "You just _stood_ there and let him come at you. You didn't move. You didn't call for help, even though I was standing _right beside you_. You didn't bat a damned _eyelash_." Yes, that was definitely fury. "You stupid fucking _moron."_

Hearing Shizuka curse didn't shock Kimihiro; in fact, it sort of thrilled him. _Now_ he had someone to fight with, instead of simply shout at. _Now_ he could let loose the ball of miserable fear and frustration that had locked itself inside his stomach since the moment he'd seen Shizuka's back in front of him, instead of the spirit's lethal nails, and realized with horror what had happened.

"Oh, _I'm_ the moron, am I?" he yelled. "I'm the one who _continually_ puts myself in danger, _on purpose and with full knowledge of what could happen,_ every single time some shit like this happens?"

"Yeah, you are," Shizuka snapped, his breathing heavy and erratic. Kimihiro noted with satisfaction that the archer's hands, too, were fisted, and he basked in pure spiteful pleasure that tomorrow's archery practice would be hell for Shizuka, whose palms would bear crescent-moon nail scores identical to Kimihiro's. Probably worse; the archer's grip was a lot stronger.

And then he thought of the claw marks raking down Shizuka's chest, and winced despite his anger. Yuuko had bandaged him up and declared it only a flesh wound, with no serious repercussions besides maybe a nearly-invisible scar, but the _point_ was that Shizuka had gotten hurt on Kimihiro's account for what was most likely the hundredth time in their odd partnership. And Kimihiro was sick of the guilt, sick of the worry, the dread, the helplessness, and sick, so fucking sick to his stomach of the _fear_ every single goddamned time Shizuka shed blood for him.

"You are the most moronic person I know," went on Shizuka, "because after all these years, you still haven't fucking learned a _damned_ _thing_ from that witch." His eyes blazed at Kimiro. "You still rush into situations without thinking, you still offer yourself up like a fucking sacrificial goat, you still haven't learned when to ask for some goddamned help. You still don't even _acknowledge_ that you _need_ help in the worst possible way."

"What, help from _you?"_ scoffed Kimihiro, and in the next instant, Shizuka had somehow teleported around the table and grabbed a fistful of Kimihiro's shirt.

"_Yes, help from _me,"he snarled. "Because I'm the _only one_ who can."

"Get your hand off me," Kimihiro hissed at him, and grabbed at his wrist, but the archer's grip, as he'd already admitted, was like fucking tempered steel. "Goddammit, Doumeki, let me the hell _go."_

"I should," breathed Shizuka, his eyes so hard and so enraged that Kimihiro's gaze almost flinched away from them. Shizuka bent so they were literally eye-to-eye, and spoke through gritted teeth. "I should just let you go, and straight to hell, too, since you're so determined to end up there anyway." His expression went grim and almost pained. "But so help me, I _can't._" Something like despair entered his voice, and his brows drew together. "I could almost hate you for it—but I can't do that, either." His eyes smoldered. "The only fucking thing I can do is wait for you to get yourself _killed,_ and hope like hell I'll be there in time to stop it from happening."

His fingers tightened in the cloth of Kimihiro's shirt, and the sound of fabric straining sent a dizzying jolt of red-hot anger and red-hot something else into Kimihiro's brain.

"If you rip my shirt," he said evenly, his voice low, his tone warning, "I'm going to kick your ass from here until the next afterlife."

"Try it," advised Shizuka, and hauled him a little closer. "I _dare _you."

For a breath-taking, physics-defying moment, they stared at one another from a span of three inches, their breath mingling, both able to feel the heat of the other's skin.

Then Shizuka released Kimihiro slowly, and straightened. They still held one another's gazes, neither one wanting to be the one to back down.

"Don't ever," said Kimihiro in that same low, even, warning voice, "do it again."

The archer let out a derisive bark of laughter. "It's a _shirt, _Watanuki," he said pointedly. "You've got more."

"_Don't play dumb with me, you asshole!"_ spat Kimihiro. "Don't you ever, _ever _push me aside and take an attack for me again. _Ever."_ He glowered at the archer, his whole frame shaking with rage. "If you ever do that to me again, I will _never _forgive you."

Shizuka's eyes narrowed. "If _I _do it again?" he repeated angrily. "_You_ won't forgive _me?"_ In a gesture of complete abandonment, he threw his hands up into the air. "And what the hell am I supposed to do in the meantime, Watanuki? Practice archery for my _health?"_

"You don't practice archery for me," Kimihiro denied.

"Like hell I don't," snapped Shizuka. "What else do I do with it besides save your ass all the time?"

"Oh, gee, I don't know," mused Kimihiro sarcastically. "Stand around carrying your damn bow like a medal of honor, or a fucking status symbol, maybe?"

Shizuka's eyes burned holes into him. "You think my bow is a fucking _decoration?"_ he hissed."Something I carry around just to _look_ _good_?"

Before Kimihiro could reply that yes, actually, that was exactly what he thought, Shizuka barreled on, "Never mind all the times I've kept you from being eaten by a spirit, all the times I've pulled you back into the world of the living, even when you were _this close,"_ he held up a thumb and forefinger a half-centimeter apart, "to losing your life—all that doesn't fucking _matter_ to you?" he demanded. "Or is that just part of the _status symbol?"_

Kimihiro glared at him. "Don't act like you're doing it for my benefit—you complain all the time about having to rescue me from spirits."

The archer looked ready to explode. _"Of course I do!"_ he roared, and even though he preferred a two-sided shouting match, Kimihiro still had to keep himself from jumping a foot into the air. _"Because you're always too much of an idiot to keep yourself out of trouble! So I have to constantly babysit you and make sure you're not doing too many stupid things at once! That kind of responsibility is absolutely fucking exhausting, you know!"_

"So stop fucking doing it!" Kimihiro shouted back.

Shizuka's lip curled in disgust. "And when you get attacked in front of me again, what do you want me to do?" he snapped. "Stand by and twiddle my thumbs, and politely ask the damn things to leave you alone? That's a fucking waste of time, and you know it as well as I do."

Kimihiro ground his teeth together. "Well, then, if you're so worried about your precious time, then from now on, _stay the fuck away from me!"_

"Gladly," shot back Shizuka, and time stopped.

They stood looking at each other as the moment, the words, sank in, and each one felt as if something had rammed itself hard into his ribs and torn his heart out on the way. A stunned cold settled itself over their minds, and they gave each other blank, wholly detached looks.

"Fine then," said Kimihiro through lips that had gone numb.

"All right," said Shizuka around a throat that gone dry.

Kimihiro turned his back and closed his eyes to trap the tears, pressing his lips together to silence the sobs, and crossed his arms to hide the trembling.

Neither said another word.

.1.

.0.

.4.

Shizuka saw himself out, and Kimihiro went to his room. He watched out the window as the archer's stiff, furious figure marched away down the dimly-lit street. He touched one finger to the glass, tracing lightly over Shizuka's rapidly disappearing form.

"You're safe now," he whispered brokenly. "Goodbye."

He curled up in a tiny, trembling ball on his futon.

In the living room, both cups of tea sat on the table, ignored, still full, and cold as ice.


	2. Storm

_The giant trees are bending,_

_Their bare boughs weigh'd with snow,_

_And the storm is fast descending,_

_And yet I cannot go._

-from "The Night is Darkening round Me"

by Emily Brönte

"You're an idiot, you know," Yuuko said to Watanuki.

He didn't even bother to uncurl from his ball, or to question how Yuuko had gotten into his apartment so quickly after Shizuka had just left.

"I know." His reply was toneless, even resigned.

It did not satisfy Yuuko in the least.

"I gave you to him for safekeeping," she said quietly, and Watanuki's eyes squeezed shut tight. He'd wondered if it had been merely hitsuzen, and not Yuuko's meddling, that had brought him and the archer together in the first place. "And I gave him to you so your wish could be granted."

Watanuki's eyes opened dazedly, and Yuuko's face came into view directly above him. She was doing that weird bend-over-Watanuki trick she could do so effortlessly without losing her balance. Mentally he applauded her for it.

"Not like this," he told her softly. "I didn't want someone else to suffer so that _I _was left unharmed."

"Then you should have wished more carefully," she said without sympathy.

His eyes closed again.

"He's safe now," he said tiredly.

"And you're not." Yuuko sounded impatient now.

"But he is," Watanuki murmured. "That's what matters."

He was mildly surprised when Yuuko dropped gracefully to her knees beside his prone form. He was completely shocked when he felt her running a hand through his hair.

"Watanuki," she said sadly, and a lump rose in his throat that _he'd _caused that emotion to become so evident in her voice, when Yuuko _never _showed emotions other than happy, silly, serious, and drunk. She combed her fingers through his wild, flyaway locks.

"You're trying to undo the granting of your wish. But a price paid is a price accepted for exactly its worth. Hitsuzen cannot be dictated to, Watanuki." She used her hand to tip his face toward her, so that he was looking up at her. Gently, with almost a mother's touch, she removed his glasses and set them aside. "What's done is done. There can be no going back."

He felt the tears trickling down his face again, but couldn't turn his face away from hers.

"I needed to let him go," he said in a whisper. His tears trickled over her fingers. "I can't let him…end the same way my parents did. He doesn't—he deserves much more of a life than that." The stifled sobs were racking his thin frame, and he lifted his arms so he could press the backs of his hands against his eyes to stop the flow of tears.

Yuuko sighed a little bit. "Watanuki, I'm going to give you some advice."

"Will it cost me?" Watanuki said before he could stop himself.

Yuuko laughed softly. "At least you're not _completely _an idiot, even in the throes of despair," she said dryly. Then her laughter faded, and her eyes grew serious. "It will cost you some of your time, some of your pride, and some of your hard-fought battles with yourself where Doumeki is concerned." She shifted slightly, leaned down a bit.

"Listen to me closely, Watanuki. I know this lesson well from personal experience." One corner of her mouth tilted up wryly in self-mocking. "Watanuki, letting go of someone—of the memories you have made with that person—takes a good deal of courage, and can hurt you, and can make you sad. But—"

She took his chin in her fingers and met his gaze squarely. "But holding onto that person and those memories, and making more memories together, takes a good deal _more_ courage, and will hurt worse, and will make you strong."

She let go of him and sat back on her heels. Watanuki's eyes closed once more, briefly.

When he opened them, she was gone.

He sat up slowly and ran a hand over his face, and thought of Shizuka.

.1.

.0.

.4.

Doumeki was pacing around the park, crunching leaves beneath his every step. He just couldn't bring himself to go home right now—his mind was so full of turmoil and chaos, and hurt…so much pain that it crippled him and ripped him raw.

Hissing out a breath, he spun on his heel. He was not entirely surprised to see Kunogi Himawari standing there looking at him with no expression on her face.

"Yuuko-san called me," she said quietly. "She said that I was needed at this place." Her lips curved in a bitter smile. "For once, someone needs my help."

"Good for you," Doumeki told her shortly. He knew exactly how she felt; he thought that way whenever Kimihiro—

He spun around again and paced away from Kunogi and that destructive train of thought.

To be _wanted,_ he thought furiously despite himself, was an entirely different thing from being needed. Being wanted was something precious and irreplaceable, It spoke of personal attachment, of preference. Need was something that couldn't be helped, couldn't be chosen.

He had wanted so badly to be _chosen._ And instead he'd been rejected. Banished. _Exiled._

"He turned away," he said suddenly, and was shocked at the rasping quality of his own voice. "Kunogi. Himawari." He faced her, a span of ten feet between them. _Funny, _he thought wildly. _I was only three inches away from Kimihiro, and it felt so much farther than this. _

"He—he told me to stay away from him." God, his voice was shaking. He swallowed hard and shoved his fisted hands into his pockets. "And he turned his back on me."

Kunogi didn't say anything, just looked at him with that blank gaze, like a doll, or a well-trained servant, waiting for him to continue.

He did, unable to stop the words once they came spewing out of his heart. "I could have handled him being stupid—I could have accepted that our words were said in anger, and neither of us meant anything by them. Not really." His nails were digging into the grooves they'd left in his palm earlier, and the pain was almost a relief. It helped him concentrate on the next words.

"I would have given him an apology, and accepted his without a grudge. God, I would have given him the world if he had just _understood…"_ His voice faltered for an instant, and he had to inhale sharply to ease the stinging ache in his chest. "But—he turned away from me. And goddammit, that tore me up inside."

Kunogi did not seem at all disturbed by the oath. In fact, she looked sort of…well, like an older sister trying to comfort her younger brother. Doumeki had never had a sister, and the feeling of pity radiating from the girl was almost unbearable.

"Doumeki-kun…" she said hesitantly. "I think you and Watanuki-kun—"

"So help me, Kunogi," he ground out, "if you say we're _such close friends_, I may never speak to you again."

Somehow Kunogi found enough humor in the situation to laugh softly. "No, no," she assured him. Her gaze drifted upward into the boughs of the trees. It seemed to Doumeki that each branch was weighed down as if with guilt or despair, and he thought miserably, _I know how that feels, too._

It seemed utter dejection made one more able to relate to others outside oneself. Was this was the Buddhists called interdependent origin?

Kunogi said slowly, eyes still on the treetops, "I think…that you and Watanuki-kun have hurt each other very much tonight."

His brow furrowed, the random thoughts dissipating as he focused all his attention on her.

She went on thoughtfully, "You are both at fault for saying things that were unkind, and I realize that Watanuki-kun told you to stay away, but you, Doumeki-kun, have probably done more damage than you realize by obeying him."

He flinched, stung by the accusation, even as gently as it was delivered, and became defensive.

"He _turned away _from me, dammit—"

She cut across him mercilessly. "And you _walked_ _away_ from _him_, Doumeki-kun. How do you imagine Watanuki-kun feels about that?"

Doumeki blinked and paused. How did Kimihiro feel? "I…"

Kunogi took a step toward him, one hand extended towards him hesitantly.

"He lost his family when he was too young to understand he wasn't to blame," she said, taking another step forward, closing the distance between them cautiously, "and he was alone for a very long time after that. He's lived most of his life feeling guilty that his parents were hurt by the spirits."

She reached his side and laid her outstretched hand on his elbow, as if trying to reassure him. "And now you, the only person in these many, many years who's been able to protect him the way his parents did, are beginning to suffer the same fate. No wonder he's terrified, Doumeki-kun. No wonder he pushed you away." Her face and voice became earnest, pleading with him to understand her words. "He's trying to _protect_ you."

The notion of it—the absolute wonder of it—dazzled him. Protecting him. Brave, foolish, bewildering little Kimihiro was trying to protect _Doumeki?_

…By sending him away. By not accepting the protection that only Doumeki could offer. By being too damn stubborn to let Doumeki protect him the way he deserved to protect.

The stupid, stupid idiot.

Doumeki's scowl became more and more pronounced as his thoughts darkened. "…Goddamn sacrificial goat," he reflected on what he'd said to Kimihiro earlier that night. "I swear I'll beat him black and blue for being such a _moron_."

"No you won't," said Kunogi confidently, who seemed rather more pleased at Doumeki's anger than worried by it.

Doumeki had to concede that she was right. He could never lay a finger on Kimihiro.

His guilty conscience provided him with an image of himself gripping Kimihiro by the shirt collar, and he wince. Almost never, anyway.

"Well, I'll make damned sure he doesn't pull this stunt again," he muttered.

Kunogi beamed. "You do that, Doumeki-kun." Dropping her hand to her side, she turned and began to stroll away. Then she paused and looked over her shoulder, that solemn, oddly warning look in her eyes sending a chill down his spine.

"For his sake, and for yours," she told him quietly, "do not fail this time."

He didn't bother to watch her walk away; he turned and began to race back up the road to Kimihiro's apartment complex.

.1.

.0.

.4.

A/N: … … Oh, come _on._ You had to know I wouldn't let them stay apart for long. Think of it in terms of _His Dark Materials _by Philip Pullman: a person and his daemon cannot stand to be kept a great distance apart for more than a few seconds. It is a physical pain, a heartbreaking and soul-rending pain. …And I'm inspiring myself to do crossover. dead

Wata: …YOU ARE A DEMON. I AGREE WITH THAT. YOU ARE EVEN MY PERSONAL DEMON, SENT FROM HELL TO TORMENT ME. BUT YOU ARE NOT _MY_ _DAEMON_. YOU ARE DEFINITELY _NOT_ MY SOULMATE.

Dou: …

Wata: YOU CAN'T EVEN CHANGE SHAPE.

Dou: Part of me can.

Wata: 8O

Dou: :D


	3. Above and Below

_Clouds beyond clouds above me,_

_Wastes beyond wastes below;_

_But nothing drear can move me;_

_I will not, cannot go._

-from "The Night is Darkening round Me"

by Emily Brönte

Shizuka couldn't remember exactly how long it took him to get from the park to Kimihiro's apartment, but when he arrived, he was nonplussed to find a piece of paper taped to the front door.

_Doumeki-kun,_ it said in that woman's flowing script. _I talked to him while you were gone and gave him some advice._ There was a butterfly insignia on the bottom corner.

Oh good grief. If Yuuko had tried to give Kimihiro advice, Shizuka was almost sure this wouldn't end well. He shut his eyes wearily, then opened them again to look down at the paper. The writing had changed.

_Quit worrying,_ it said now. _Remember this invincible spell, and follow your instincts._ Again there was a butterfly insignia, but nothing else written. Perplexed, he turned the paper over.

_I'm sure everything will be all right._

He blinked at the words, printed neatly and with almost childlike handwriting, not Yuuko's elegant hand. Why did this 'invincible spell' tug at something inside him? He couldn't remember ever having heard the phrase before…

Shaking his head and shoving the note into his pocket, he didn't even bother to knock; he slammed into the apartment with such force that he was surprised the wall didn't collapse.

Kimihiro was not in the living room where Shizuka had left him.

Annoyed, Shizuka took a few steps into the apartment, intent on hunting the boy down, but a door flew open in the hallway and Kimihiro stumbled into view, looking panicked and indignant and evidently searching for the perpetrator of the loud bang. When his eyes locked on Shizuka's, they widened, and his face went pale.

Shizuka cringed inwardly at the sight of such shock and almost-terror and painful hope on Kimihiro's face. Kunogi had been right; he'd hurt the boy badly by walking away from him. And he had absolutely no clue where to start fixing it.

He opened his mouth to apologize, to explain, to beg.

"Oi."

He could have kicked himself.

At the single word, Kimihiro's face went slack and disbelieving; then, to Shizuka's surprise, it filled with such unmitigated relief that Kimihiro seemed to be _glowing_ with it. The boy slumped against the doorway and brought a shaking hand up to cover his eyes.

"Oh God," he whispered jaggedly. "Thank God." And then, so low that Shizuka almost didn't catch it, _"You came back."_

Shizuka was striding toward him before he realized what he was doing, fully intent on wrapping the boy in his arms and never letting him go no matter what kind of struggle he put up.

He grabbed Kimihiro's shirt collar.

_What the _fuck_ is wrong with my subconscious tonight?_

Furious at himself, at Kimihiro, at both and neither of them, Shizuka said threateningly, "If you _ever_ do this to me again, I'll never forgive you."

Hearing his own words thrown back at him, Kimihiro blinked. His lower lip trembled, thoroughly distracting Shizuka for all of three seconds, before his mouth firmed into a thin white line.

"B-Bastard," Kimihiro said, albeit weakly, without any sort of heat at all. "I don't take orders from you—of _any _kind."

Shizuka felt himself starting to smile.

"Moron," he retorted, and had to actually fight the smile from widening when Kimihiro snorted derisively.

Nearly ten seconds passed in which they simply looked at one another without speaking.

"Don't leave me again."

At the single, muttered sentence, the half-smile dropped away from Shizuka's lips, and he stared at Kimihiro, who looked—oh God—as if he was struggling not to cry, and was simply scowling for the purpose of masking his misery.

Oh God. Oh God. What to do? Shizuka let go of Kimihiro's collar and instead took him gently by the shoulders. "Quit running away, dammit," he said gruffly. When Kimihiro frowned up at him, he added sharply, "And quit trying to put me in a box. I can handle the damned spirits." He forced a smirk onto his lips to lighten the tension. "_You're_ the damsel-in-distress here."

Kimihiro's glare became venomous—but he didn't move away from Shizuka's touch. "I swear to every god and demon who's listening, I am going to kill you myself," he snapped. "You won't _need_ to _worry_ about the spirits getting to you."

"Yeah, well, neither will you," said Shizuka pointedly.

_That _put a hitch in Kimihiro's stride. He seemed to grasp at straws for some worthy response.

"I mean it about taking hits for me," he muttered finally, his eyes fixed straight ahead—which just happened to be Shizuka's chest. "Stop it. It's…it's irritating."

Shizuka snorted his opinion of that nonsense. "Right. _That's_ going to happen."

"I'm serious, Doumeki." In his zeal, Kimihiro brought both hands up to grip Shizuka's wrists where they rested on his shoulders. Shizuka felt a thrill go through him at such a…_voluntary_ touch. "Next time, you could _die_."

"So could you." And that was a non-negotiable point. Kimihiro's life would be placed above Shizuka's own. End of story.

"Dammit, Doumeki…" Kimihiro's eyes flashed at him.

Shizuka wasn't going to be dissuaded on this. His grip tightened on Kimihiro's shoulders, and he shook the boy lightly. "Look, we can do this all night," he said casually. "But I'll win."

"Why you…" Kimihiro breathed in deeply, presumably to keep himself from calling Shizuka something unpleasant. "Doumeki." His tone was deliberately practical. Shizuka wanted to pat him on the head like a puppy who'd done a trick well. "Listen to me. If it's a choice between my life and yours—"

"You'd better not finish that sentence," Shizuka warned him grimly.

Kimihiro's patience had apparently reached its breaking point. He fisted both hands at the sides of Shizuka's shirt in a desperate move. That thrill zinged through Shizuka again.

"Some of those spirits _will eat your fucking soul, dammit!"_ Yeah, Kimihiro sounded desperate, all right. "Weren't you raised in a temple?" he demanded. "Don't you have any concerns about saving your immortal soul or whatnot?"

"What good is saving my soul if you're going to break my heart?"

At Shizuka's soft question, Kimihiro's cheeks turned pink. "That's—"

"Damn right," finished Shizuka for him. Kimihiro looked completely flustered, which was kind of…really fucking adorable.

"You're—"

"Not kidding."

"But—"

"But nothing." With one hand, Shizuka tipped up Kimihiro's chin. "Don't test me on this, Watanuki," he said flatly. "If you leave me alone in this life, I swear that I'll find you and make your afterlife a living hell."

The pink in Kimihiro's cheeks intensified. "Like you do every day," he mumbled.

Joy spread through Shizuka. He fought to keep it from showing in his face or voice.

"Worse," he said lightly. "You can't escape me in the afterlife. I'll definitely never let you go."

Kimihiro stared at him, his cheeks now completely red. "Doumeki…" he said after a moment, confusion and ill-concealed, embarrassed pleasure in his voice. "That's—"

"You got it." Shizuka leaned down until his mouth hovered just over Kimihiro's, his breath brushing across the other boy's parted lips.

"Bento boxes for _eternity."_

It took a moment for the words to penetrate Kimihiro's mind; then, to Shizuka's unparalleled delight, the red in his cheeks darkened with anger, and his eyes spat lightning bolts of fury and mortification.

"You miserable, greedy, arrogant piece of—" 

Shizuka laughed, and met the boy's snarling mouth with his own.

.1.

.0.

.4.

A/N: Whoo, boy. I…really hate that ending. No, I do. :P Hate the whole chapter, really. I feel like it's too contrived. But that's as far as I'm going with this. Nothing more. And THANKFULLY FOR YOU LOT, nothing less. grumbles Now I need to go finish chapter six of Dreamwalker. moseys along

Oh, one thing I did like about this story—which I didn't realize until I started writing this chapter—was that in chapter one, I referred to the boys as 'Shizuka' and 'Kimihiro' the whole time. In chapter two, from Watanuki's POV, I refer to him as 'Watanuki' and to Doumeki as 'Shizuka,' and then in Doumeki's POV, I change it to 'Doumeki' and 'Kimihiro.' I figure that my subconscious just randomly decided that Watanuki cannot think of himself as 'Kimihiro' without Shizuka, just as Doumeki cannot be 'Shizuka' for anyone but Kimihiro. It works, yes:D


End file.
